


Weeping Angel

by Ghost_in_the_Hella



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Angst, Blink, F/F, amberprice, doctor who - Freeform, happy birthday rachel amber, hella sweary, underage drinking and drug use, weeping angel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 17:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19931701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghost_in_the_Hella/pseuds/Ghost_in_the_Hella
Summary: Weeping Angels are misunderstood creatures. Rachel tries to explain this to Chloe.[aka Rachel and Chloe get stoned and watch Doctor Who.]





	Weeping Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Velmax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velmax/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Rachel Amber! (ignore the publication date; it's still July 22nd where I'm posting from) Since I had forgotten I wanted to do something for Rachel's birthday until a few days ago, this fic had a much faster turnaround time than usual. Apologies for any resulting typos, inaccuracies, LiS lore errors, etc, as I did not revise or research this as extensively as I typically do. Since this is for Rachel's birthday, I'm going to assume that even those who prefer not to read tags will understand that Rachel features prominently in this story, but I will reiterate that this is Amberprice and takes BtS as canon. If that's something you dislike, no hard feelings, but maybe skip this one. If it's something you're into or open to, though, please enjoy!

Rachel is, frankly, impressed that she and Chloe not only managed to navigate their way up the garage roof and in through Chloe’s window, but to apparently do so without waking either Joyce or David. It’s an impressive feat under the best of circumstances, and staggering home at two in the morning with sobriety but a dim memory after a Vortex Club party is far from the best of circumstances. Still, they managed it with only a few scratches and bruises between them, nothing they’ll even feel until the next day.

From a practical standpoint, it’s a stupid thing to do. The safe, sensible thing to do would have been to have Chloe walk her back to the dorms from the party and say goodnight there. The party was on campus, after all, and she has class in the morning. There’s really no need for her to risk twisting her ankle or - worse - waking up Chloe’s step-Fuhrer by drunkenly climbing up a house in the dead of night. Except…

Except that Chloe’s been _good_ tonight.

Chloe’s been patient and charming, not complaining when Rachel disappeared on her for hours at a time but always glad to see her return, dancing when Rachel felt like dancing, ready with a drink in hand when Rachel wanted one, sharing her last cigarette when Rachel needed to step outside for a bit and get away from the crowd. She was even tolerably nice to Rachel’s Vortex Club friends, which is something even Rachel has a hard time with lately.

To be honest, Rachel’s been having a hard time being nice to anyone at all lately, and that’s another reason why she chose to take the risk of sneaking into Chloe’s house instead of playing it safe at the dorms. She’s been kind of a shit to Chloe the past few months, and it’s a lot easier not to feel guilty about it when Chloe’s being a shit right back. But when Chloe’s being so good and sweet and affectionate…

And so here they are. Alternately giggling and shushing each other as they tiptoe around Chloe’s room in the dark, Rachel setting up the bong and Chloe setting up her computer. Rachel curses softly under her breath as she drops weed all over her jeans and Chloe’s unmade bed. Between the party drugs and the dark, her fine motor skills aren’t at their best. Chloe grabs her attention by waving a DVD boxset in the air. “Hey. You remember where we left off with this?”

Rachel sets the bong down on Chloe’s desk and takes the box from her, squinting to read its cover. _Doctor Who_ , series three. So that’s where that went. “I think we at least watched up to the Dalek ones…” She can kind of remember Chloe attempting to imitate them until Rachel had to smack her with a pillow.

Chloe fwumps down onto the bed next to her, picking up the bong and resuming where Rachel left off. “Those are the exterminator guys, right?”

“Uhhh… I guess that’s one way to put it. Did we watch the Dr. Lazarus one?”

Chloe shrugs, helpful as ever. “Sounds kinda familiar. I think.” She snatches her lighter. “Just pick a disc, I guess. I’m not picky.”

Rachel pops in the disc that seems the likeliest and angles the monitor to face the bed; Chloe is obviously not solid on details and Rachel’s seen every one of these episodes a dozen times already anyway, so she supposes it doesn’t really matter if they pick up exactly where they left off.

They smoke a bowl together by the light of Chloe’s computer screen, the volume down low to better their chances of making it through the night without incurring the wrath of David. When it’s kicked, Rachel pulls the baggie back out of her jeans and reloads. Her hands aren’t so shaky now.

This is the most relaxed she’s been all night. The most relaxed she’s been in weeks, if she’s honest. There’s a comfortable familiarity to every moment: the warm closeness of Chloe’s body as they tangle casually on her bed, the smoke they share between them, the soft drone of _Doctor Who_ playing in the background, Chloe’s sleepy chuckles whenever she finds something amusing. When the bowl is kicked again, Rachel sets aside the bong and cuddles close. She sighs her contentment when Chloe drapes a lanky arm over her and starts tracing mindless patterns on her skin.

Rachel can’t remember the last time things felt so… _nice_. Relaxed and easy, this casual intimacy without the pressure of secrets or expectations or unanswerable questions squeezing all the air out of her lungs. They’re not demanding anything of each other. They’re simply… sharing space. Naturally, the moment Rachel realizes how calm and pleasant everything feels, something begins to prickle in her nerves. An urge to move, to mistrust, to shatter the calm before it can shatter her. She crushes her eyes shut and takes a slow breath to steady herself.

Everything’s fine, she tells herself. Everything’s _fine_. Just _let_ it be fine.

“Holy shit, that thing’s fucking terrifying.”

Rachel opens her eyes again and takes a moment to reorient herself. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees Chloe’s eyes are fixed on the screen. She follows her gaze and smiles. _Blink_. A classic. “Really? You think the weeping angels are scary?”

“Listen to the music, Rach. Lookit their fuckin’ monster faces.” Chloe gestures sluggishly toward the computer screen. “That is the face of something that is gonna Fuck. Your. Shit. UP.” She meets Rachel’s eyes and attempts to imitate the distended frozen scream of a weeping angel. Rachel buries her giggles in Chloe’s mattress. “Yeah, yeah, you’re laughing now, but if you saw one of ‘em in real life you’d piss yourself. Lookit their fangs, girl! That thing’ll eat your face off!”

“No, it won’t!” Rachel protests, her voice still muffled by the mattress.

“Like fuck it won’t!” Chloe slams her hand down on the bed so emphatically that Rachel is bounced an inch into the air. “What d’you think those nasty-ass pointy teeth are for? Eating ice cream? Those are _face-eating_ teeth, Rachel!”

When Rachel’s laughter subsides, she rolls over and shoves Chloe’s shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Price, haven’t you been paying _any_ attention??”

“Ummm…” Chloe sheepishly scratches the side of her face. “Been kinda… in and out, I guess?” she admits.

Rachel sighs in exaggerated annoyance and gets up from the bed to pause the episode. “Weeping angels don’t actually _kill_ people.”

Chloe looks sceptical and a bit disappointed, though whether it’s because of what Rachel’s saying or because she’s left the bed is hard to say. “They don’t? The fuck are those fangs about, then?”

“I don’t know. Aesthetics? But they’re not for eating people.” Rachel rolls her eyes at Chloe’s dubious cocked eyebrow. “Weeping angels are... misunderstood creatures.”

Chloe’s brow furrows. “Seriously?”

Rachel folds her arms over her chest. “Seriously.”

Chloe props herself up on one elbow and gives Rachel a gravely attentive look. “Okay, I’ll bite. Misunderstood creatures. Explain.”

Rachel begins slowly pacing the darkened room. “Well, you said it yourself. You find them terrifying, right?”

“Because they _are_.”

“But _why_ are they terrifying? They’re not murderers. Whatever those teeth are for, they don’t use them to eat people or anything. Literally all they do when they catch you is send you back in time. They don’t kill you. They don’t even hurt you.”

“Huh. Then why do they chase people and stuff? What’s in it for them?”

Rachel stifles an annoyed sigh. Chloe’s wasted as shit and it’s hella late; Rachel can’t really fault her for not paying enough attention. Even if it’s a classic episode and Chloe _really_ doesn’t know what she’s missing. “They sort of… feed on what might have been. The potential energy of the future you might have had. But they don’t actually take away your future. They take away one possible future, but they give you another one, in another time. You still live a full life. It just isn’t the life you thought you were going to live. But that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I mean, look at the characters in this episode. They lived _good lives_ after the angels sent them back in time! They found love, got married, had children, had careers… They didn’t lose their lives. They got to live new ones.”

“Hmm.” Chloe’s thoughtfully stroking her chin. “I guess I can see how getting a new shot at life might not be the worst thing...”  
  
“And they’re so vulnerable,” Rachel pushes on, building up steam. “Think about it! They can only move - can only be _alive_ \- if absolutely no other living thing is looking at them. Not a person. Not a fly on the wall. Not even another weeping angel. Can you imagine that? If every time you looked at another person, another member of your species, they ceased to exist? If every time another person looked at you, _you_ ceased to exist?? What kind of a life is that? No friends. No lovers. No one to talk to, to kiss, to make love with...”

“No one to get high with…”

“No one to dance with…”

“No one stargaze with…” Chloe releases a pensive sigh. “Shit, Rach, you’ve really thought about these guys a lot, huh?”

Rachel shrugs and stops pacing. “I just think they’re interesting, is all. Everybody thinks they’re scary, but… I think they’re tragic.”

Something lights up in Chloe’s eyes suddenly. A mischievous smile crosses her face. “Ohhhh yeahhhh, I remember now… Didn’t you say something once about doing a one-woman show called _Weeping Angel_?”

Rachel blinks in surprise. She remembers putting on that performance, certainly, but that was nearly a full year before she and Chloe hooked up and it was at Drama Camp in Cali. No way Chloe would know about it unless Rachel told her, but she doesn’t really remember discussing it with her. Digging deep into her mental archive, she can just vaguely recall mentioning it in passing once, years earlier. It was early days, still getting to know each other, and Chloe had made some snarky jibe about Rachel being a doctor or something… “How in hell do you remember that?”

Chloe chuckles, her expression somewhere between proud and embarrassed. “I dunno. It was so random, it kinda stuck out to me.” She grins. “Plus it gave me a total nerd-boner.”

Rachel barks out a surprised laugh, then claps a hand over her mouth when Chloe shushes her. When she can trust herself to be quiet, she removes her hand. “I so call bullshit. You never even _watched_ _Doctor Who_ before we started hanging out!”

“True, but I knew enough about it even then to know it was hella nerdy. And at that point all I really knew about you was, like… the legend of Rachel Amber, you know?” Chloe rolls onto her back and gestures dramatically as she speaks, like she’s weaving a tapestry in the air. “You were, like, this perfect, untouchably cool goddess of Blackwell. So popular even the popular kids were jealous, fuckin’ gorgeous, smart as a whip, rich, classy, always the best at everything… _Totally_ out of my league.” She snorts. “And then you come out to me as the _biggest_ fucking _dork_! In this completely casual way, too, like, ‘oh yeah, I did a one-woman show about _Doctor Who_ last summer.’ Just… every part of it was nerdy as fuck, and you obviously didn’t care if I thought so, and it just kinda… made you even cooler, you know? Kinda made you seem more… I don’t know. Real?” She turns her head towards Rachel and waggles her eyebrows at her. “Also, nerds are hot. And unapologetic nerds are even hotter.”

“Nerds _are_ hot,” Rachel concedes, “but _Doctor Who_ is _not_ nerdy.”

Chloe smirks. “Oh, no?”

“ _Doctor Who_ is hella cool.”

Chloe gets that smug, condescending look on her face that simultaneously pisses Rachel off and turns her on. “Whatever you say, Rach. It’s definitely fun to watch stoned, I’ll give you that.”

“Hmph.” Rachel starts walking back toward the computer to put the episode back on. She pauses when Chloe speaks up again.

“So, how did it go?”

“How did what go?”

“Your one-woman show, dude! _Weeping Angel_. What did you do?”

Rachel looks back at Chloe and sees she still has that damn look on her face. Her eyes are bright and expectant in the light of the computer screen. “I was fourteen!” Rachel protests. “You think I remember some stupid play I put on when I was fourteen?”

“Yes, actually.”

And, of course, Chloe’s right. Rachel’s got a memory like a bear trap. Once she’s decided something’s worth remembering, it doesn’t get away from her. She can no longer recall the play word for word - it’s been almost four years, for fuck’s sake - but she can remember the gist of it. Certain lines, certain gestures. Without question she remembers the hours and hours she spent writing it, revising it, rehearsing it. The brief rush of performing it, over much too quickly. The somewhat baffled applause that was somehow more gratifying than a standing ovation would have been. “You just want an excuse to make fun of me,” Rachel prods, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.

“No way!” Chloe declares emphatically. “I won’t. I swear.”

Rachel sighs. She can feel the slight tingle of anticipation building in her extremities, the way she always gets before she goes onstage. Fuck, she’s actually going to do this, isn’t she? Not the whole play, not the way she did it when she was fourteen and on a stage in front of a crowd. But… an adaptation, of sorts. She can improvise something for her audience of one. She sighs again, exaggerating the sound as she buries her face in her hands.

“I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was just curious.”

Rachel’s smirk remains hidden behind her hands. She doesn’t move. She waits.

“Uh, so… Y’wanna finish this episode or just crash? You’ve gotta get back to Blackwell early, right?”

She waits.

Chloe shifts on her bed, creaking the bedsprings. There’s the soft rattle of her picking up her lighter from the desk. Rachel’s woken up to that sound at least a hundred times. “Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment right now? What are you, four?” The flick of the lighter. The crackle of a cigarette coming to life. Chloe’s slow inhale.

Rachel chances a glimpse between her fingers. Chloe’s head is angled slightly away, eyes closed as she breathes the smoke into her lungs. Rachel moves closer, swift and silent, her hands dropping slightly away from her face so that she can see where she’s walking in the dark. Chloe’s head turns and Rachel freezes. Chloe stares at her, eyes narrowed as she puzzles through her thoughts. Blue smoke curls into the air from between her fingers, mingles with the blue of her hair. Rachel recognizes the smell of her own preferred brand and just barely manages not to smile. She must’ve left those here, too.

Chloe glances at the cigarette in her hand and Rachel takes a step forward. Chloe looks back and Rachel stops. Chloe raises the cigarette questioningly. “You’re not pissed, are you? We can split it if you want. You’ve got almost half a pack here, though. Didn’t think you’d mind.”

Chloe holds her eye contact. Rachel wants to move so badly it feels like her skin is vibrating. Chloe blinks. Rachel steps forward, stops when Chloe’s eyes open again.

“Are you… Are you messing with me?” Chloe blinks, her eyelids slow and heavy. When her eyes open, Rachel’s closer, a grin frozen on her lips. “You’re _totally_ messing with me.” She takes a pensive drag on her cigarette. Rachel can practically hear the gears turning in her head. Slow, befogged by pot and alcohol and the late hour, but turning. Chloe’s eyes spark suddenly. “Oh, shit! You’re doing it, aren’t you?”

Chloe blinks; Rachel steps forward. “Don’t blink,” she says. She halts when Chloe’s eyes open. She’s only a few feet from the bed. Just a few steps away.

Chloe blinks. “ _Don’t blink_ ,” Rachel admonishes.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Chloe teases, grinning as her eyes open to find Rachel closer still. Despite her teasing refusal, Chloe stares until her eyes start to water. Rachel doesn’t waver. Rachel pictures herself as a statue, as a rock, as something unmoving and eternal. She won’t break before Chloe does.

Chloe can’t hold the stare anymore. She blinks.

“Don’t blink.” Rachel’s knees are brushing against Chloe’s.

“You gonna send me back in time? If I blink, am I gonna end up churning butter in the 1800s or some shit?” Rachel doesn’t answer. She hardly breathes. Chloe blinks.

Rachel climbs onto the bed, straddling Chloe’s hips. She freezes when Chloe opens her eyes and grins up at her. The cigarette, all but forgotten, is spilling ash all over her mattress. “Is this how your one-woman show normally ends?”

Rachel manages not to laugh. Chloe blinks. Rachel leans in close. “Don’t. Blink.”

With their faces so close together, Chloe is even easier to read than usual. Rachel can feel the way her breath catches in her chest, the slight tilt of her head in anticipation, the way her lips quirk into just the hint of a smile as she eagerly waits for what’s coming next. Her pale blue eyes broadcast her every thought and feeling so clearly, and as they flicker excitedly back and forth between Rachel’s it’s obvious what she’s going to do. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she repeats. But Chloe doesn’t blink. Slowly and deliberately, she closes her eyes and she waits.

Rachel plucks the cigarette from Chloe’s lax fingers and crushes it out in the nearby ashtray. She takes Chloe’s face in her hands. Chloe’s still waiting, eyes closed and lips slightly parted, patient but trembling. Rachel leans in and accepts her invitation.

As she kisses her, a million thoughts wash unbidden through her mind. Misunderstood creatures. The loneliness of weeping angels. The future. The past. Chloe.

How far back would she take her, if she could?

How far back would she have to go to unfuck this? To untangle this mess they’ve made of everything, to put the trust back in her eyes, to get back to a time when things could still be simple for them. A time when the future shone bright for them both.

She’d have to go back before she took up with Mark, that’s for damn sure. Mark, with all of those big promises he keeps dangling in front of her to keep her from backing out. Mark, with all of his secrets. Too many damn secrets.

Before things with Frank became… whatever they are now. _Complicated_. Frank, with his puppy dog eyes, his almost terrifying loyalty, his equally terrifying rages, and the drugs he keeps such poor track of.

Before the drugs. Before they became a constant itch in her skin, harder and harder to scratch with each passing day.

Before the knife wound that wouldn’t stop _aching_ until she doped the pain away. Even after it healed, the ache just… wouldn’t _leave_. Three years later, she’s still trying to dull the ache inside of her.

Fuck, when _was_ the last time she was good for Chloe? Was she _ever_?

Rachel thinks of all the stupid things she’s done over the past months, the past years; all the stupid things that Chloe’s done right back, and she kisses her like she could erase it all. Like she could kiss it all away if only she tried hard enough. If only she _wanted_ it enough. Chloe’s shaking under her, scraping clipped blue nails up the small of Rachel’s back until she’s shaking too, and still it’s not enough. Chloe squeezes Rachel’s thigh through her jeans with her other hand, so hard it almost hurts, and that’s not enough either. It’s good, but it’s not enough to change anything. It’s not enough to make them what they should have been.

She would have to erase so many things along the way. Their camping trips. Skinny-dipping on the beach. Every fight. All the make-up sex. Their first kiss…

The _train_! She would take Chloe back to the train, to that first day they cut class together. Their first, last chance to be good for each other.

She could go further back, she knows - take Chloe back to before her father died, to before her friend left, back to when she was _really_ happy - but then she wouldn’t be her Chloe anymore. And Rachel’s too selfish for that. She doesn’t want Chloe just to have a new life. She wants her to have a new life _with Rachel_.

So she’d take her back to the train. She’d sit there next to this beautiful girl she’d finally worked up the nerve to talk to, listening to her music with one ear and dangling her feet off the edge, happy. And when they reached Overlook Park, she wouldn’t jump. She wouldn’t make Chloe jump with her. She’d let her father do whatever shady shit he wanted to do, and she’d just… let it all go. They’d ride that train to the end of the line, and then they’d keep going. Together. Forget about Blackwell, forget about Arcadia Bay, forget about all their other plans and just _be together_.

“Hey… hey…”

Rachel’s pulled back to the present by the feeling of Chloe’s fingers running over her face. It takes her a moment to realize that Chloe’s brushing away her tears. Chloe’s still a little breathless under her, her cheeks flushed an inviting shade of pink and shining with sweat, but her pale eyes are full of concern. Rachel pulls away from Chloe’s hands, rubbing her own sleeve against her tear-streaked face in embarrassment.

The woman beneath her is not the fair-haired girl she nearly ran away with that day, a tall and lanky sixteen-year-old bundle of nerves and barely restrained emotions. The short hair that spreads out beneath her head, glowing like a halo in the light of the computer monitor, is violet and blue. Her clothes are edgier, too: even more ragged and stained and torn. A tattoo winds its way from wrist to shoulder on one arm, twining flowers and red ribbon and blue butterflies and a grinning, empty skull. She’s even taller now, if that’s possible, and leaner. Hollowed out. The way that Rachel hollows everyone. And her eyes are… different. Still beautiful. Still blue. But they don’t look at Rachel the same way that they used to.

“Rach, c’mon, what’s the matter?”

Rachel rolls off of Chloe’s lap and scrubs her face completely dry, willing herself not to shed any more tears. “Nothing. S’fine.” She forces a chuckle as Chloe eyes her sceptically. “Frank really screwed you on this weed, Chlo. Making me all weird and emotional and shit.”

“You’re the one he screwed.”

Rachel freezes. “What?”

“It’s _your_ weed, Rach.”

“Oh… right.” The silence that engulfs them then is much too loud. Rachel is uncomfortably aware of the sound of her own breathing, still a little ragged, and her own heartbeat, still beating too hard and too fast. She drags herself up off the bed. She doesn’t look, but she can feel Chloe’s eyes on her, following her every movement.

If there’s one thing that hasn’t changed in three years, it’s that Rachel loves the way that Chloe watches her. Even when her eyes are full of doubt and questions, the way Rachel suspects they are right now, it still feels good. It makes her feel like somebody worth watching. Somebody worth giving a shit about.

She walks over to the computer. “Should I turn this off or let it play? I’m pretty ready to crash, but I wouldn’t mind some background noise.”

“...Sure. Background noise sounds good.”

Rachel turns the volume even lower and dims the monitor a bit so it won’t be too bright on their faces while they sleep. Chloe’s gaze follows her around the room as Rachel opens the closet and digs out the pajamas she’s left there. She rubs the cloth of one of her flannels that’s waiting on a hanger. Chloe’s closet might as well be her own at this point. Hers are the only clothes that hang in it; Chloe’s are all over the floor.

She can feel Chloe’s eyes on her as she takes off her party clothes and changes into her pajamas. She can hear the subtle way her breathing shifts. She can picture so clearly the look on her face. That little stunned, flabbergasted look Chloe still gets after all this time. Perfect.

Rachel turns around, risking a look at Chloe’s face. Her eyes are bright and unreadable in the dark. She can just make out the slackness of her jaw from across the room. “Your turn.”

“...Huh?”

Rachel gestures at her own outfit. “Pajamas? Or were you planning on sleeping in your dirty clothes?”

“Oh! Uh, right.” Chloe’s halfway out of her jeans before she breaks out in a smirk. “I was actually kinda thinking of sleeping naked, but I don’t know. Might be awkward if a weeping angel catches me in my sleep.” She tosses the dirty jeans toward Rachel, who sidesteps them easily. “Wouldn’t want to wake up bareassed in the 1600s or something. That’d be fucking embarrassing.”

“If you woke up in the 1600s, being embarrassed would be the least of your problems.” Rachel dodges a shirt flung in her direction, then a bra.

“Oh, yeah?”

“With your hair, you’d probably be burned as a witch.” A pair of underwear flies inches past Rachel’s face. She laughs. “Your aim _sucks_ , Price.”

“Or maybe I just don’t want to be smelling my own underwear on your face all night. I worked up a _sweat_ at that party.”

“You did,” Rachel concedes with a chuckle. She’s slightly disappointed when Chloe starts tugging on a pair of sleepshorts and a loose-fitting muscle shirt. “Thanks for that, by the way. I know those parties aren’t really your jam.”

Chloe shrugs. “It’s whatever. I got to spend time with you, at least.” She smiles as Rachel crawls back onto the bed and nestles into her arms. “I like this better, though.”

“Mmm.” Rachel buries her face in Chloe’s shoulder, breathing in the smell of smoke and her dried sweat. She can feel Chloe watching her even as she drifts asleep. Blue eyes watching over her, watching out for her. Protecting her. “Don’t blink,” she whispers into Chloe’s chest, fingers clutching into the fabric of her shirt.

Slow fingers stroke through Rachel’s long hair. “I won’t.”

Rachel dreams of unbroken promises and pale blue eyes that gaze with love that never falters. She dreams of weeping angels, frozen for eternity. She dreams of the past, and of futures that could never be.

Rachel dreams of trains.

**Author's Note:**

> This oneshot takes inspiration from a throwaway line in the Two Truths and a Lie scene in BtS (that's right: I didn't make up the one-woman play). It should be noted that I don't smoke pot and it's been over a decade since I've hung out with stoners on a regular basis, so apologies if my terminology or descriptions are out of date or incorrect. I've also only watched a handful of episodes of Doctor Who (although I have seen Blink and rewatched it before writing this), so apologies to any hardcore Whovians for any inaccuracies or misrepresentations. 
> 
> Eternal gratitude as always to my partner Velmax, and especially thank you for the lightning-speed beta on this so I could post it in time for Rachel's birthday! Thank you also for being my Doctor Who consultant!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Reflection](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20562467) by [JustClem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustClem/pseuds/JustClem)




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